His Emergency Tie and The Smell Under His Desk
by Sophie Ranier
Summary: These are the things we will remember him by. PostDeathFic. Tivaish...more of a friendship.


**This has been rotting in my head for a solid 2 months now and today in Chem I thought it was going to burst. And now it's been eating away at me for the last four hours. **

**I almost hate myself for writing this.**

**Yes, it's a death fic, but it's not explicit with the death, more like a post death fic with a smudgen of Tiva. **

* * *

The rain only made it worse.

Now it wasn't just the small knit team and his family that was mourning for the fallen hero, it was the whole world.

Tony strides into the bullpen, dropping his backpack down tiredly and sinking deep into his chair. He drops his face into his hands, rubbing his eyelids and forehead with his fingers.

Frustration takes over momentarily as he slams his clenched fists down on his desk. He tightens his jaw, sad eyes gazing towards the empty desk in front of him. And he is confused for a moment and looks towards Gibbs's desk, which is also empty.

He takes a breath, and slowly turns his head to the right, despite the fact that he has not done so in a complete twenty-four hours.

It is empty, as it has been for the last day. The pictures and papers that had been stapled, tacked, and taped to his surrounding corkboards; along with the dozen or so office supplies and trinkets have been packed neatly into a cardboard box that sat solemnly on his desk.

His 50 cent American flag lay alone on top.

Tony's eyes wander down to the floor, and they spot two brown suede boots sticking out from underneath McGee's desk.

He furrows his eyebrows and curiosity pulls him up from his chair, leading him to the desk. Turning his head downwards he peeks through the space underneath Tim's desk and is surprised to find Ziva, a yellow and red striped tie smothered against her nose.

Her eyes do not meet his right away, so he invites himself in. Assuming the same position she is in, back against the back of the cold metal, feet straight, and head just barely reaching the top, he shifts slightly and she turns her head towards him, face still in the cheesy looking tie.

Her eyes are empty, but that's what he suspects.

They are alone under McGee's desk, shoulder touching shoulder, and it feels like a cave, secluding them from the outside world, but locking their emotions in with them.

And he notices it smell surprisingly good; like fresh linens with a burst of crisp, green apples.

He turns to meet her sad, watering eyes. She takes another deep breath, sucking air from the polyester material. Tony flicks it.

"That his emergency tie?" he asks with a twitch of a smile. Ever since he stole McGee's tie for his nosebleed, he'd been telling him that he always needed an extra tie with him.

She shrugs sadly and removes the material from her face for a moment as she speaks. "I found it while I was cleaning out his desk. It still smells like him." she thinks the last part sounds stupid as it comes out, but she doesn't care and he thinks it's sweet. They were always so close. From the beginning McGee was the only one that accepted her.

She puts the tie back to her nose, taking in another deep breath.

The lump in her throat has grown three times its size since he came in.

"You didn't have to clean everything out on your own." He can feel his throat closing in on himself.

"His parents are coming…" she loses her voice in her own words.

There is a long, thick silence. Her eyes burn with fresh tears, and holding them in hurts even more, but she does it anyway.

"He had so much potential." He croaks. "Director Tim McGee." He breathes a mirthless laugh. "I always thought I'd go before him." He is talking his way through the pain; it's working, but not enough.

"Where's Gibbs?" she changes the subject quickly, for Tony.

"Forman's dead, Tracy's locked up. Probably in his basement, with a new boat and an old bottle of bourbon."

_He's consistent like that. _

Her head falls on his shoulder, he hardly notices.

"Things are going to be different." She is pushing her words out through a dried throat.

"Yea…yea, they are."

It's a sad, but known fact.

"Who is going to unfrag our computers?" she asks softly, trying to lighten the air. But she is tearing now.

"De-frag." He corrects absently. "Yea, and who's keyboard am I gunna superglue?" His voice is tight and forced. He takes an unsteady breath.

A tear has reached her chin by now, and for some reason, she doesn't care.

"Who will put up with our antics and not tell Gibbs?" she laughs through her tears.

He shakes his head. "No one…" he says slowly. "Probie's irreplaceable." He takes a deep breath. She hands him his tie.

"We are all irreplaceable in each other's eyes."

He holds the polyester up to his nose, and as silly as he may look, it reminds him of Tim.

He slowly gives her back the tie.

And it is moments, maybe even lifetimes, before he speaks.

Her tears are still silently rushing out of her eyes, but there is a small smile on her face as she thinks of the last five years, and even just forty-eight hours ago.

"You know it smells pretty good in here, considering were under his desk." He almost chuckles.

Ziva shifts her head up his shoulder slightly. "He sprays- _sprayed_ it with air freshener every morning. I caught him sometimes." She inhales deeply. "Green apples." she breathes.

"Did he really?" he smiles. "I didn't know that."

"He made sure he did it before you came in. He thought you'd think it was stupid." She smiles though, it's not sad, it's a memory.

Ziva scrunches her nose and catches a tear before it leaves her eye.

Tony lets his head drop back, hitting the cold metal behind him. "I should've gone easier on him." He shakes his head in regret.

"Don't say that." She lifts her head up and looks at him.

Suddenly her hand is wrapped around his. "He did not mind it. It made him feel wanted. Like he had a purpose." She smiles quickly.

His eyes melt into hers. And they stay like that for a moment. Her cheeks are halfway soaked with tears and his eyes are filling with water with each passing breath.

She lays her head back on his shoulder. "Life is too short sometimes." Her grip is slightly tighter around his.

"And sometimes it's always too late."

She laughs. "I do not think that made any sense."

He chuckles in agreement.

_You know Tony, it's a cliche, but it's true. Life's too short to not to tell someone you love them when you do._

Paula's words rung through his head.

"You know I love you, right Ziva?" he asks casually. And there is hope in his voice.

She knows what this love is, its friendship. You don't always have to be in love with love someone. She loved Tim, they both did. Among the millions of terrible, sad, and mournful things that came out of Tim's death, a stronger, more tangible love between two partners was perhaps the only good thing.

"Yes. I do." She pinches his knuckle. "I love you too."

* * *

**I'm not exactly sure how I feel about this. I mean I like it, but I'm not the biggest fan of the ending. I just needed to end it somewhere. **

**So…I know this is a tad sad, but can you leave a nice review or something? Maybe your favorite line? I'd like that.**

** I've doubting my writing a bit lately and I'm more focused on how its written, as well as the plot, but oh, I don't know…I'm gunna stop talking now. **

**Also, sorry for the slight OOC, okay, NOW I'm gunna stop**


End file.
